Welcome to my bloggy home. Here, I strive to make you laugh like never before, cry warmhearted tears, get silly, and be naughty. Together, we'll uncover morsels of sweetness in the light and dark. You'll leave craving chocolate. That's a given. I'm a bad influence. Oy vey, am I a bad influence! {But I do recommend fair trade and organic varieties.} Please enjoy the samples, and may you fast become addicted. I hope you'll return again and again. Then once more.

One Rainbow Tribe in an Orange World (but only for now).

Monday, January 26, 2015

My Dear Sillies,I haven't been around much, because I was honored to visit Atlanta, Georgia, for the AFSP's/American Foundation for Suicide Prevention's Annual Leadership Conference. Despite the profound tragedies that brought 340 of us together, I was energized by AFSP's life-saving successes, incredible people, and delectable pecan everything (pecan bacon, pecan pie with chocolate, pecan hash browns, pecan...)

Atlanta, Buckhead District - view from the hotel

On another exciting note, I finished editing my book (though I'm not sure I'll ever be finished editing), Woman on the Verge of Paradise. Now, to work on publication and continue revealing snippets here. This scene takes us to my dorm room at UCLA, freshman year. Times are unsettling. I've just been shaken by the tragic news of my Mom's terminal illness, when I receive an odd phonecall...

---------------------------------------------

A day or two after
learning of my Mom’s illness, another unexpected phone-call interrupted my
studies. It was a guy. He sounded serious.

“Hi. This is Bob. I’m conducting a research
study on the orgasm. It will only take a minute. You’re a student, right?”

“Yes.”

“Your age, major, and year in school,
please?”

“Eighteen, Psychology, Freshman.”

“Have you ever had an orgasm?”

My face flushed and heart rate sped. “No I
don’t think, no.”

“Hmm, really? On a scale of 1 to 5, 1 being
‘not at all interested,’ and 5 being ‘extremely interested’, how interested are
you in having an orgasm, say, if you could have one right now?”

I heard they’re good, I thought. “Five.”

“You sound REALLY interested. Is that
right?”

Crap. I quelled my enthusiasm. “Yeah, I
guess.”

“So why haven’t you had an orgasm?”

I was quick to defend my innocence. “I’ve
been dealing with other things, like my Mom’s dying of cancer.”

“Oh. Thank you for your time.”

“Okay bye.” Wait. Don’t go!

Click.

Honestly,
he sounded like a researcher, and I believed he was. I still think he was
conducting a clinical study. But I’m naïve. Had he known who he was calling, and
that I could use some stress relief?Had
I missed a momentous opportunity? Did I turn him off by telling him that my Mom was dying of cancer? I can see how that might have killed the mood. I’ll
never know for sure.

Monday, January 19, 2015

source
I posted this poem in October of last year, as a tribute to you and your loved ones who were/are faced with tremendous obstacles, like cancer. I'm re-posting it in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr. Apologies that I haven't written new non-erotica poetry as of late. I'm hoping to do so soon.

I was fortunate enough to be in the audience many years ago, when Coretta Scott King, Martin Luther King's then widow, who passed away in 2006; gave a moving speech. Even more awesome, that speech was delivered to a Jewish audience. I couldn't have felt more directly connected with the Reverend's teachings.

As horrible as things seem in the greater picture, there's always reason for hope. In fact, hope is our only real option. Right?

Have a hopeful week, with gratitude to Martin Luther King for his greatness and courage.

Courage

Extending the dance,

When you’ve long lost your groove Swimming to shore too frail to move.

Stepping towards light, when darkness aboundsPermitting a laugh amid no other sounds.

Confronting a beast no one should endureIt strikes with no warning, no reprieve and no cure.

Snuggling with hope, when the pain you can’t bareUnveiling your heart in the face of despair.

Conveying a smile, when you’d much rather crySpeaking the truth though it’s safer to lie.

Taking a stance, when integrity’s lostForcing what’s right in spite of the cost.

Holding to faith in your value and worthMaintaining a grace that softens the earth.

Monday, January 12, 2015

Add chocolate, a woman's first love, to bacon, a man's; heat; then drink! Does it work? I had to find out, so I purchased Redneck Cafe's Bacon Hot Chocolate at Cost Plus World Market. It's created and distributed by McSteven's Inc. in Vancouver, Washington.

I excitedly poured half of the packet into water, heated it in my microwave, sipped, and...thumbs down. It doesn't work. I tasted more bacon than chocolate and struggled, in fact, to taste chocolate. The bacon flavor wasn't right either - as if it was too fatty, too non-kosher, or had been left on the grill for too long.

Next, I mixed the rest with almond milk and heated it. That tasted better, sweeter and creamier. But it still didn't make me smile or sigh ecstatically - as good chocolate-bacon should.

I'm not saying it's a bad product, and I drank it all, but I suggest that you save your money for a better bacon-chocolate product like the candy bars I reviewed in the past.

On a scale of 1 to 10, one being utterly disgusting and ten being orgasmicly divine, I give Redneck Cafe's Bacon Hot Chocolate a 3.5. It was a decent effort, and the package is kinda enticing. It was worth a try - if only for your sake, my dear readers. Wink.

Wednesday, January 7, 2015

Welcome to 2015's initial gathering of the IWSG. On the first Wednesday of each month, writers throughout blogland share writerly insecurities and offer support. We have beloved Alex J. Cavanaugh to thank for this fantastic group.

I like to shake things up on IWSG days by mocking celebrities, especially rich and stupid ones. When I can make you laugh in the process, all the better.

We're supposed to introduce ourselves today too. But I've spent hours on this post because the formatting keeps getting messed up and my computer skills suck and I have to get up super early and it's getting super late... Plus you already know me, and I'm sorry for that. So we'll skip to today's guest. He's a scammer and a swindler who's bounced between bankruptcy and extreme wealth, and his hair is fascinating in the worst of ways. He's best known for saying "You're fired." This man's a hair-brained, racist, anti-Semitic idiot. Ladies and gentlemen, let's give a nice, warm welcome to Mr. Donald Trump!

Three young WASP blonde apprentices cheer, as Donald Trump enters the stage. He sits in a high-powered red leather executive chair, while Robyn plops onto a Hello Kitty Bean Bag and munches a $100,000 bar.Thanks for visiting our studio, even though I couldn't afford you. Well, nobody could afford me. I'm worth billions and billions of dollars. I'm very, very, very rich. I'm a multi, multi billionaire.Yeah, so is it real?Of course it is. He clenches his crotch.All of the women on The Apprentice flirted with me -
consciously or unconsciously. That's to be expected.

No, not THAT. Your hair! Is your hair real?

I
founded Trump University--and created the Trump Top 10 List for Amazon.com--to
teach entrepreneurs the Trump Way to succeed. No one ever became a champion by
training like a bum. If you want to be the best, you have to train like the
best. You have to make yourself unstoppable. If you aren't relentless, you'll
quickly be less--or even nothing.

So are you going to run for President? Because I don't want to start a political discussion on this stage, but you do unify all parties by giving us someone to laugh at.

His hairs dance wildly in all directions.

Whoa! That can't be real. Right?Look lady, I don't know what you're talking about, butAnyone who thinks my story is anywhere near over is sadly mistaken. The point is you can't be too greedy. A certificate of live birth is not the same thing by any stretch of the imagination as a birth certificate.

I think we've heard enough.

Both irritated, Trump and Robyn look at each other and say, simultaneously, "You're fired!" Trump's hair flies off his head and towards the back of the stage. He scurries to retrieve it. Robyn waves at the camera and we cut to a commercial about Rogaine.

Monday, January 5, 2015

George and I --still going strong after eight weeks, but who's counting?--spent New Year's Eve together.

Italian dinner was prepared by a little Jewish woman,* master of one and only one main dish [cheese-spinach manicotti]. *pointing at self*.

We sipped a bit of wine too. Then we...slept together. Actually, I fell asleep. "It's midnight," he whispered. I pushed myself up and out of a snuggle position on the couch. We stepped outside to watch all of the fireworks that we'd been hearing for hours. We saw none. George and I stepped back in and went to sleep. When did it get so difficult, and mean so little, to stay up past midnight on NYE?

I'm thinking George is a good one. Unlike other men I've written about, he's literate.

He appreciates fine art.

wiener painting at the best Wurst place in CA. It's in Healdsburg - a quaint, upscale artsy community in Sonoma County. We recently visited on a day trip.

Plus, George doesn't do stupid or crazy things, but he likes to watch.

On New Year's Day, hundreds of locals plunge into the near freezing (36 degrees F) waters at Bidwell park, just for fun. This "Polar Plunge" is kinda cool and really cold. George and I watched and laughed.